


Somewhere Between Mercy and a Mistake

by Nickidemus



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 02:25:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nickidemus/pseuds/Nickidemus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damon struggles with whether or not he wants to control Elena entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhere Between Mercy and a Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place somewhere around season one.

A link on the chain broke, and she lost the necklace. This was an opportunity a man could wait his entire life for, and considering that Damon was a vampire, that could’ve been a damn, long time. She seemed to be hoping he wouldn’t notice its absence, but Damon was sharp, particularly when it came to Elena. And she made another mistake: she chose to trust him.

She’d come to see Stefan, and she’d found Damon. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the first time she felt more than a twinge of a threat. She could honestly say she’d been wary of him a number of times, maybe even afraid, but the knowledge she saw in his smirk made her stomach drop.

“Quite the risk taker,” Damon smiled, moving toward her at a leisurely pace, prowling. He saw her tense and start to turn and was on her in an instant. His hand went to her throat but didn’t squeeze, his eyes deepening and meeting hers. “You’ll stay.”

She loosened. She was a vessel now, a hollow doll awaiting instruction.

“Very nice,” Damon grinned. One finger trailed down her cheek, the other hand still holding her throat and studying her pulse. “I get tired of waiting. Being number two, and you can take that however you want, as I do often feel I get treated like shit on someone’s heel around here.”

She couldn’t argue. Couldn’t counter that he brought such opinions on himself, made his own trouble. She could only stare.

“I want you to dance with me,” he told her. “Not anything obnoxious. Something… slow. Close. See, I can be romantic. Then, we’ll go upstairs, and I’ll undress you. And you’ll let me in, won’t you?”

She said nothing to this, and her head nodded so stiffly her neck should’ve creaked.

“But first,” he said, his face becoming stonily serious. “I want you to say that you love me.”

She replied dutifully. “I love you.” But her soul clearly wasn’t in it.

“Like you mean it,” he growled, and his hand trailed back into her hair, holding onto a fistful of it.

“I love you,” she repeated, and she was breathy, sighing, but he still didn’t believe it.

“Why can’t…!?” He clenched his jaw, took a deep breath, and smiled as if he didn’t care, which only served to make him look insane. “Why can’t you just do as I say? Tell me you love me and mean it.”

“I love you, Damon,” she said, but there was something hard behind her complacency. She was fighting him. She wouldn’t win, he knew. It was only a vague sense he got, that she was even trying, but even that minimal effort was something he didn’t expect.

“I want it to be real,” he snarled at her, beginning to feel his resolve fail. He knew better than to believe it could be real like this. But the temptation had simply been too great.

Elena reached up and put her arms around his neck, and something in that was real. She was following the thread of his words, but she was also trying to reach out in some way, from some recess of her mind. The sadness he saw in her dark gaze made his lip twitch.

“What I’m doing is wrong,” he said, and it was more said to himself as if he were testing the words, but they caused Elena to stiffen and gasp. Compelled or not, she had a very negative reaction to the concept of wrongness. That sadness, only a notion a moment ago, swelled and made a tear fall down her cheek.

When had he ever cared about anyone’s tears? And hers did things to him that he couldn’t quite say aloud. Sympathy was like a rusty, ill-used gear that wouldn’t turn in his heart anymore, but passion was still there, a loud and roaring creature that never quite died. He slipped his arms around her fully then and pressed his lips hard against her cheek, growling there in frustration. He hated her for making him feel this way, and he loved her, as well. Loved her so much it felt like hate.

His control slid just enough. But Elena didn’t run or break away. She tightened her hold. “I know… you don’t want to hurt me.” She was struggling to push her way out, feeling as if she were caught in a fugue, as if she were trying to awake from heavy anesthetic. “Damon…”

He drew back and gazed at her, feeling a deep swell of dueling emotions when he released her entirely. “No, I guess it has to be your choice.” He looked bitter then. “I thought… But I can’t. This many years later, and I can surprise myself.”

Elena didn’t appear amused by him at all, her expression wary, her entire body ready to bolt. “You know what it would’ve been if you had forced me to do as you said.”

“Hardly the first time,” Damon admitted and slunk away from her. He could feel her tentative footsteps following, hear them light on the floor. “You’re being risky again.”

“Maybe… I just want to understand,” she replied softly, her empathy making him feel a little nauseated.

“I’m soulless,” he shot back. “What else is there to know?”

“Not from my experience,” she said. “Not entirely. Spoiled, sure, but not soulless.”

He shot her a venomous look then, but it withered under the depth of her watchful eyes. He collapsed onto the lush sofa in front of the fireplace and sighed through his nose. “I should make you forget and send you on your way. Scampering back to your… vapid friends. Stefan.”

“And yet you gave me more than ample time and opportunity to run.”

“And yet there you stand.”

Elena took a seat that was so careful it was as if the sofa might’ve been on fire, and she had to scoot to get as close to Damon as she dared get. “Would you have? Hurt me like that?”

Damon cut his eyes away, glaring. “Clearly, I can’t. Something… I can’t to you.”

He felt her palm, clammy and clearly nervous, touch his cheek. He snapped his attention back to her with a guarded expression. She stroked his face, her hand falling to his chest as her fingers rubbed him there.

“I don’t know what to do with you, Damon,” she said, and there was something so wise beyond her years in it that it stilled him. “You make… feeling anything impossible. I can’t be afraid. I can’t care too much. I don’t even know what I wish you would do or be. And I’m horrified at the times that I think… I don’t want you to change.”

He listened, plucking her hand from his chest and holding it in his, bringing it to his lips and tracing them with her fingers. He pressed a kiss to the backs of her fingers, and his eyes slid shut at first, then opened to watch the fire enter her eyes. He drew her to him, and she was still stiff and a little nervous, and a wicked part of him wondered if this was how she’d been for her first time with Stefan. Had she trembled like this? Had she wanted it so badly her breath was hot against his neck? Had she begged? And she truly did. No, he hadn’t dreamed her voice growing husky and saying “please”. Then “show me.”

He was determined not to bite her. He had already made a nearly fatal mistake this evening, and he wasn’t ready to make another. But if he couldn’t have her blood, he would go to that wet, fragrant place and drink there instead. It might as well have been bloodlust, the way he felt overtaken, burying his face between her legs and supping extravagantly. She made perfect sounds and moved like neither whore nor virgin, though he’d had both and everything in between. She was simply a delight to him in a world full of bores, and he deepened his tongue bath until she was sobbing.

He crawled back up her body, and Elena clung to him suddenly, kissing his mouth to taste her tangy flavor on his tongue. When she drew back after a kiss so thorough it left them both breathless, Damon tried to speak, but she wouldn’t let him.

“Just… show me… why,” she interrupted. “You want me to love you so badly. Show me what you feel.”

He drew her up and into his lap, sitting back against the sofa. His mouth found her ample breasts and feasted there as he gripped her hips and pushed her onto his rigid member. Elena lost her breath, caught it, and began to ride. But it was Damon who set the pace, lifting and grinding her down as he held her hips with both hands. He watched her face, rapt by it. She looked ready to break at any moment, to weep from ecstasy, but something wouldn’t allow her to do it. A mess of contradictions, his Elena. He’d always sensed that about her, and she exhibited it so well here.

Then any further thought with sense was lost as she came, gripping him, her walls pumping around his cock. He bucked and shot deep inside her. His arms encircled her waist, and his face pressed into the soft comfort of her breasts. He could feel her cradling his head, and he laid her back on the sofa once more to writhe on top of her, licking and scraping his teeth dangerously along her skin.

“With any other girl,” she asked after a long interval of content silence, “what would be your next… inclination?”

“It depends on whether I still see potential there,” Damon answered truthfully.

“And then you’d…” She didn’t finish the sentence, and he knew well she found that part of him disgusting. And maybe just a little fascinating. “And me?”

“Endless potential.”


End file.
